Beguine: A Butch and Cassidy Story
by Morrigan the Nightmare Queen
Summary: My first attempt at a Neoshippy fic- Cassidy's POV. Giovanni has fired them, the Mafia is after them, and Butch has had to run for his life. Can Cassidy survive without him? Interspersed with 'Begin the Beguine,' a song by Cole Porter.


Beguine: A Butch and Cassidy Story  
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Author's Note: A sweet, slightly sad Neoshippy fic. The words of the song are from 'Begin the Beguine,' by Cole Porter. No, I don't know what 'beguine' is either. The dictionary doesn't list it.  
Disclaimers: Butch and Cassidy ain't mine.  
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When they begin the beguine  
It brings back the sound of music so tender  
  
Butch is right. He said we have to live through this- just try to hope that maybe, one day, we'll be together again. I don't believe that will ever happen. But the hope is there- it's always there. Especially whenever it's a cool evening, with a soft, warm breeze. That always makes me think back; back to that wonderful night when we told each other how we truly felt.  
  
It brings back the night of tropical splendor  
It brings back the memory evergreen  
  
I can remember the touch of his hand, the soft feel of his hair. I don't care what they say about him or his voice. We were meant to be; he said it, and I believe him.   
  
I'm with you once more under the stars  
And down by the shore an orchestra's playing  
And even the palms seem to be swaying  
When they begin the beguine.  
  
When Giovanni 'exiled' us, I thought it was bad. When working for Team Rocket showed up on our records and we couldn't get a job anywhere, that was worse. But then, a couple of Mafiosas put us on their kill list, and Butch had to leave town. Leave town without telling me where he was going. He has my number- why doesn't he call? I've agonized over it for two weeks, since his disappearance.   
  
To live it again is past all endeavor  
Except when that tune clutches my heart  
And there we are, swearing to love forever  
And promising never, never to part  
  
It was at about seven o'clock on a warm spring evening. I can remember the whole thing as if it were yesterday: We had been on a mission for Giovanni, trying to steal some ten-year-old's Pokemon. The twerp somehow managed to see through our trap, and we got- as that snooty Jesse called it- blasted off. I had landed badly, breaking my ankle, and Butch was carrying me. He put me on the couch, and cared for me; after all, Team Rocket couldn't go to a hospital.   
For more than a week, we stayed in that cabin. I can tell you, I definitely wasn't the best company for Butch. In fact, I was bitchy. What can I say? Restlessness does that to a person, especially a very active one. And I hate being cooped up more than anyone else I know.  
But Butch didn't get mad. Didn't try to argue with me. Once I slapped him. Hard. He didn't try to hurt me back. I know a lot of guys who, if they were in the same house with me, and I was unable to walk, would have taken advantage of the situation. Butch didn't.   
And we grew close.   
  
What moments divine, what rapture serene  
  
I loved him. He loved me. It was so wonderful, so . . . perfect.  
  
'Til clouds came along to disperse the joys we had tasted  
  
Don't ask me why Giovanni threw us out. Butch thinks that maybe the b@stard couldn't tolerate love. Maybe he never had any himself. After all, with a mother like Madam Boss- it makes me shiver to think about it. I'd rather have no parents at all.  
  
And now when I hear people curse the chance that was wasted  
I know but too well what they mean  
  
I'm alone. At least, we were together. But Butch had to run for his life, and I could not follow- after all, two targets are harder to hit than one, and we could not stay together. To remain with him was all I wanted. But to do so was certain death. If I come to him, he dies. If I stay away, I die. I am alone, and there is nothing I can do to change that.   
  
So yes, let them begin the beguine  
  
What the- I hear a footstep.   
Oh, no. Not this. Have they returned to kill me?   
  
Make them play  
  
I . . . wait. I hear someone breathing. Someone I know!  
  
'Til the stars that were there before return above you  
  
The head of turquoise hair . . . the black jacket . . . the face . . .  
Butch!  
  
'Til you whisper to me once more  
  
My unhappiness and sorrows are blown away as he sweeps me up in his arms. I cling to him, trembling, afraid that he might be an illusion.  
No, he seems to say, as he kisses me. I am real.  
  
Darling I love you  
  
He has returned to me.  
  
And we suddenly know what heaven we're in  
  
In his arms, I find peace again . . . peace and happiness.  
  
When they begin the beguine.  
  
Butch, I love you.   



End file.
